


Our world changed, your eyes didn't

by regnumveritatis



Category: El secreto de sus ojos | The Secret in Their Eyes (2009), Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, Alternate Universe - Human, Baby Emma (Supernatural: Slice Girls), Castiel Needs a Hug (Supernatural), Dean Winchester is Ben Braeden's Parent, Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, F/M, Gen, Good Older Sibling Gabriel (Supernatural), Good Older Sibling Michael (Supernatural), Good Sibling Raphael (Supernatural), Graphic Description, Grief/Mourning, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Kid Sam Winchester, Lawyer Castiel (Supernatural), M/M, Minor Lilith/Lucifer (Supernatural), Minor Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Period-Typical Sexism, Police Brutality, Zachariah Being an Asshole (Supernatural)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:33:36
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27841549
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/regnumveritatis/pseuds/regnumveritatis
Summary: An unsolved crime. An unspoken love. An ending yet to be discovered.Destiel 'El Secreto De Sus Ojos' au.
Relationships: Ash & Dean Winchester, Ash/Jo Harvelle, Castiel & Michael (Supernatural), Castiel/Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Kelly Kline/Michael (Supernatural), Michael & Dean Winchester
Comments: 3
Kudos: 4





	Our world changed, your eyes didn't

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TerryDraven](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TerryDraven/gifts).



(Dream/Memory sequence)

_Figures, nameless silhouettes blurred by their utter irrelevance to his memory in a sea of brown and beige and washed-out office navy. (None of them mattered as much as the small hand clutching his coat as he begged them not to leave or the long sleeved arm rushing them both). Constant motion prevents the details of their clothes be clear but his eyes take notice of a suitcase here and there, a couple of nervous hands clutching a watch. One man running to the train as if his life depended on it, for all he knows it did. A large column of black breaks the monotony of dull colours, large yellow letters saying **7 PLATAFORMA 8**. Sammy'd thought it looked like a funeral car and the bright sign was painted that way to deceive people into thinking they'd be happy to get on the 'bandit's favorite vehicle'. Ironic seeing as how it was those who refused to board that 'disappeared'. The sign gets farther away, Sammy's protests one of many noises in the background as the conversation he's heard every day in his mind since 1975 proceeds. It ends the way it always does, with the large gentle hand of the angel he never dared to hold almost touching his cheek but halting himself. As if remembering that what was appropriate and often romantic for a certain type of goodbye would be vilified should attention be drawn to theirs. _

_Bending at the hip, then a quick kiss on the forehead from the seraph for Sam who still refuses to go. Face full of ugly sobs and rubbing his snotty nose. Kid never did like farewells. Who could blame him for being afraid it'd be the last one after what they'd just seen? Wordlessly the angel rises and blue enters the world. Blue like faded ink on handwritten letters that only God could write. Never leaving him as the doors open and Sam's grip grows tighter in dread of what's coming. Softly, the angel removes his flower from the suit beneath that ghastly oversized trench coat no one ever convinced him to stop wearing and places it on Dean's undeserving single top breast pocket. Their faces too close for norms of personal space when Dean pick up him and Sammy's patched up suitcases and goes, missing that trademark little head tilt as they leave the seraph behind. Logically he knows there's only a few changes of clothes, a photo album and a typewriter that still faintly smells of strawberries in the bags. It shouldn't feel like there's anchors tied to each of them, threatening to drag him down as he spares one last look._

_Their angel on the brink of tears shames him into looking away and stepping inside where's Sammy's already seated. He thinks there were reds and greens and whites inside the train but they all walk past them, some even turning up their noses as if they could smell the poor a mile away. Probably the shoes that clued them in, not even the cleanest pressed shirt in the world can distract from a pair of sneakers talking while mushing all your toes together. And then, just as the wheels start turning and the journey far from home begins fate decides to give him a sight that won't vanish._

_Long fingers reaching out to touch tempered stained glass, at first barely visible through the corner of his eyes but then the view expands: the angel almost tripping as he tries to contact the brittle transparent layer separating them. For a moment Dean worries he'll fall. That all those hours of physical therapy will be for nothing this instant, his cane being tossed aside doesn't really help. His run is steadfast albeit still lopsided. The light reflected on the window combining with the train's speed to make it look like he has his own halo as the effort pays off, hand finally making contact with the intended target. Wordlessly Dean places his own hand on the glass, marveling at perfectly they merge together. As quickly as that perfection comes it leaves, the angel unable to keep up and ultimately falling behind. He gets out of his seat, Sammy's 'Wait, where are you going?!' numbly enters his mind as he reaches the end of the train. A small circlet being the only opening to the world outside but that's all Dean needs to see the angel's silhouette, still running in that imperfect style as if by doing so he could somehow change the course of destiny. Growing smaller and smaller until Dean has to squint to see that disbalanced dart. And through it all those eyes never leave him, two blue stars burning so intensely Dean's sure somehow they'll be seared onto his soul._

**Author's Note:**

> Hands out tin cup: comments please? Also this is my first time doing this ship so be gentle, I'm still learning.


End file.
